


and though time may take us into different places

by raggirare



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, McGenji Week, Talon Genji Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 21:54:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8464432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggirare/pseuds/raggirare
Summary: Jesse has many questions when it comes to Talon, and the answers are always only more questions in disguise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Back with more Starbucks and late McGenji week stuff. I'll get these finished eventually.
> 
> [McGenji Week](http://mcgenjiweek.tumblr.com/post/151413786319/welcome-to-mcgenji-week-to-celebrate-mcgenji-and) Day Four: Reunion

Talon used Blackwatch tactics. Jesse figured that out the first time he had a close encounter with them. It was an observation that had its ups and downs, because while it meant he knew the sort of tricks they would pull, they also knew his tricks, as well. There were unknowns, of course, but years of following specific strategies and tactics engrained them deep into muscle memory and it was instinct more than conscious decision for many of their actions.

Until Jesse let his guard down and found himself caught in tactics that were completely unfamiliar. Alone and closed off with no one to call on for help, he had fought his best, but even he knew a losing battle when he saw one. There was no chance to beg for mercy, only a sharp pain, a thud and a sudden loss of consciousness.

When he came to, it was about as much as he had expected, at least beyond the initial surprise that he was coming to at all. Talon, who destroyed everything that got in their way, had not only let him live, but, if the weight on his head and shoulders was anything to go by, had left him with his hat and his serape. The weight of Peacekeeper from his hip was gone, though; holster empty. Expected, but still disappointing. His hands were secured behind him to the back of the chair, bound with rough rope fashioned in a knot secure enough to prevent him from escaping but loose enough to keep his wrists from chafing. 

There wasn’t much to take in from the room around him. Once his eyes finally focused and adjusted to the dark, all he could see was emptiness broken only by floating pinpricks of red lights. _Talon._ One agent, directly in front of him. There was a sliver of light off to his left, a gap between the bottom of a door and the floor was Jesse’s guess. Nothing but darkness on his right, and the way his hands were bound restricted just how far he could turn his head to look back over his shoulders.

“He is awake.”

The sudden voice cutting through the silence and echoing around him startled Jesse enough to rattle his spurs, but he rolled with it and simply shifted his position. Finding his ankles free, he stretched his legs in front of him and lounged against the back of the chair. His head tipped back a little and he even had it in him to close his eyes, regardless of the threat of the unknown.

“Ain’t the politest, are ya? Rude to talk like the person you’re talkin’ about ain’t there.” he drawled, playing off nonchalant as though he wasn’t bound to a chair.There was silence in response, but he had figured that would be the case and he continued to hold a conversation with himself. “Creepy as all get out, as well. Sittin’ there all alone, watchin’ another grown man sleep. Lord knows what you’re doin’ there in the dark. Why doncha at turn on the light?”

A sound behind him. Metal against metal and the creak of a hinge. There were heavy bootsteps, as well, and Jesse opened his mouth to mouth off some comment or other, but the words caught in his throat when light flooded the room. It wasn’t the sudden blinding that caught him off guard, and instead the colour that filled his field of view.

He’d smelt blood the moment consciousness reached him. His face stung, though, and he could remember taking a hit square in the face before blacking out, so he had simply passed it off as dried blood on his own face. Now, though, Jesse realised his mistake. 

The wall directly opposite him was painted in blood, staining the white walls and pooling on the floor, a tendril nearly reaching where the cowboy had outstretched his feet. The liquid was thick and dark, dried in thinner places and just barely congealing on the floor. The source was hanging on the wall, feet dangling inches above the ground with a short blade stabbed through the neck. The unmistakeable red eyes of a Talon agent’s helmet continued to stare into Jesse, the head dangling to one side, blood staining every part of the body.

Jesse startled and sat bold upright and pulled his legs back underneath the chair with a jangle of spurs.

“Was that necessary?” The voice was an echoing rasp behind him, distant and familiar in all the worst ways possible. Accompanied by slow and heavy bootfalls, it didn’t take much for his guess to be proven right as Reaper moved into his peripheral vision, the cowboy’s head turned as far as he can manage to look over his left shoulder.

“He did not follow orders.” 

The second voice pulled his gaze to the right, where he was met with a less familiar figure, leaning back almost casually against the wall. The voice was vaguely recogniseable, the same voice that had broken the silence before, and then was something niggling Jesse about it that he couldn’t quite put his fingers on. The figure, though, he had never seen before, and he doubted he had ever heard stories of a black-masked shadow taking part in Talon’s attacks. He was sure he’d recognise such a mercenary, as well, and that tales would follow them around of a slim black figure, taller in presence than in height with a sword on his back, and thick armour on his forearms and shins, and claws on his shoes and gloves. The horns were the most impressive, really, reminding Jesse of some sort of young deer. Able to be so still and silent. 

If Reaper was Death, then this was Famine, the kind to kill you slow enough for you to realise only after it was too late.

Reaper came to a halt in front of Jesse, but left his back towards the cowboy, boots barely inches from the edge of the blood pool on the floor. “I meant the mess,” he clarified, lighter than Jesse had ever heard the wraith speak, and even with the hood up, he could tell that Reaper’s head had turned from the hanging corpse to the other figure in the room. “And doing it here.” A shift. A profile view of the mask came into view. “Look, Tengu. You scared him.”

“You missed the best part,” Tengu’s tone held some sort of amusement to it as he pushed away from the wall and neared as well. He did not stop at the edge of the blood, crossing the threshold with no hesitation even as his feet sank into the thick liquid. A gloved hand raised and closed around the hilt of the sword before giving it a sharp tug. “He spoke to him.”

The body, now freed, fell to the ground, splashing more of the blood onto the man’s legs. Tengu lifted his head to look first at Reaper and then towards Jesse, and it was only then that the cowboy realised the mask did not cover his face entirely. The mask itself sat only on the bottom half of the man’s face, all snarling lips and oversized fangs, and the horns drew back over his head from a helmet, leaving a gap just wide enough for his eyes, the small sliver of visible skin scarred and deeply marred.

Reaper barked a laugh and turned his own body to fully face Jesse, arms folded across his chest. “Of course he did,” the ghost drawled, claws tapping out a silent pattern on one arm. “Still just a brat, pretending to be brave. Nothing’s changed.”

“Plenty has changed, Reaper,” Tengu’s voice shifted, the amusement still there but mostly covered by something else that Jesse couldn’t quite place. “He never used to manage to be so quiet before.”

“Bit hard to have somethin’ t’say about havin’ pranks pulled on you when y’talkin’ like I ain’t right here,” Jesse interjected, doing his best to keep his tone steady. He succeeded for the most part, so long as he didn’t let his attention be drawn back down to the body and blood on the floor and let his focus remain on the pair of masks in front of him. He’d seen plenty of death in his life, and he wasn’t exactly squeamish, but this just felt excessive. “Doncha know that kinda shit is rude? Almost as rude as not introducin’ yourself.”

There was a beat, unexpected silence, where the two masked men simply glanced to each other before slowly redirecting their gazes back to Jesse. An entire conversation without any spoken words. The kind of moment that feels as though it drags when it only takes a few seconds, and Jesse found himself fidgeting, tugging at his restraints.

"You know who we are." It was the unknown that spoke, that _Tengu_. The niggling feeling in the back of Jesse's head returned again as well. There was something about that voice that was getting to him, familiar, perhaps, or touching on some sort of nerve in the back of his head, but he couldn't place it. It wasn't quite the tone and it wasn't quite the choice of words or how the man spoke but there was definitely something. 

Jesse scoffed and shook his head, slow, so as not to risk disturbing his hat. "Like hell I do," he bit out with another tug at his restraints. His cool was gone, his temper slowly flaring. He felt as though he was being toyed with, and there was nothing he hated more, so long as he couldn't remove himself from the situation, at least. Were he not restrained and instead able to remove himself from the room, then he would be less frustrated and simply leave. Leaving was not an option and there was still the lingering hint of fear in the bottom of his gut every time his eyes glanced to the body resting in blood right in front of him. "I know _La Lechuza_ over there, but you I have never even heard of."

“ _La Lechuza_ , huh?” Reaper spoke, leaving no space for a silence to fall between them. He began to close the space, as well, taking a slow, purposeful step forward, and then another, and then another. He stopped within Jesse’s personal space, within arms reach if the gunslinger’s hands weren’t bound, but he didn’t reach out and he didn’t say anything.

Tengu stayed where he was. Jesse’s eyes wandered towards him for a moment, watching from the corner of his eyes, watching as the confident and smug aura that had been emanating from him since Jesse registered his presence faded away with a fall of shoulders and a shift of gaze until it seemed the man was staring at the far wall to Jesse’s right. Eyes shadowed between the helmet and the mask, it was impossible to tell what was going through them.

He wasn’t given much chance to try and figure it out, either, because movement pulled his eyes back to the wraith in front of him. Jesse watched as claws lifted to draw back then hood, and then one hand slowly lifted the mask from his head, and he felt the frustration he felt towards the dragging situation bloom into full blown anger. It showed on his face, eyes narrowing, brow knitting, lips tearing back in a near-snarl.

There had always been a feeling. A guess. A sinking suspicion of the true identity of the ghost of a monster hunting down ex-Overwatch agents. Jesse had always done his best to deny it, even if he knew that all the evidence was only pointing towards that one dreaded answer, but now, with the truth staring him in the face, he had no option.

“I fought for you,” Jesse bit out, his expression holding and sinking deep into his tone. Venom laced his words with bitterness, burying disappointment and sadness and surprise. “I came back and I fought for you. I fought them to make sure you got a goddamn grave. A memorial. I went back home and I told your parents that the things they were saying were lies. That you would never. Their precious Gabi would _never_. You made me lie to them.”

“I never asked you to,” Reaper ( _Gabriel_ ) growled and leaned forward, clawed hands gripping onto the back of the chair. It trapped Jesse between his arms and forced the gunslinger to look forward into that monstrous face. Too many inhuman eyes, skin scarred and torn, mouth lined with sharp teeth and opening far wider than a human mouth should. There were parts of Gabriel in there, though, just enough familiarity to the face that made it impossible to deny just who it was. “I told you to leave. I told you to not look back. I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me? Kickin’ me out and not telling me nothin’, that’s what y’call protectin’?” Jesse scoffed, the snarl finally relaxing even if his tone didn’t. “I’d hate t’see what y’call whatever it is y’did to the others. What about Abied, huh? Nara?” He paused. Bared his teeth again. Nearly growled. “What about _Genji_? He _couldn’t_ leave. That’s what he told me. He couldn’t leave because of _you_.”

“Abied… died in Switzerland.” It was Tengu who replied, not Reaper, surprising even himself. His tone was quiet, distant, and he kept his attention on that far wall. Reaper shifted, drew an arm back, and the anger in his expression seemed to slowly fall away to something else. Eyebrows furrowed. Jesse might have called it concern on Gabriel’s human face. “He refused to let Gabriel do anything without him. He was shot in the head. He died instantly. No suffering. Nara stayed as well. Died in the explosion. And Genji…”

“Tengu.” Reaper’s tone lost its bite and the wraith straightened entirely, even if he didn’t step away or give Jesse any space.

“Genji could not leave, right up until the very end,” the Talon agent continued, his tone shaking at the edges, and he lifted his own clawed hands. The mask came off first, revealing the bottom half of a scared face. The helmet was next, drawn forward to reveal black hair, first, and then the rest of the scared face, and it didn’t take the man coming closer for Jesse to realise. “Even until now.”

Jesse stared. He felt the anger and the frustration seep from him and it left nothing but confusion and sadness. The information he could find about what had happened, what little he was able to access with no longer being a part of Overwatch and the nature of the entire calamity, had no mention of the fates of any Blackwatch names other than its captain. No mention of Abied, or Nara, or Genji, and Jesse had at best hoped they had all gotten out like he had, or at the worst died from other causes.

“Genji…” The name fell from his lips, unbidden, and he found he couldn’t look away. For years he’d convinced himself that Genji had died. For years he regretted their parting, the words left unsaid between them. He’d staved off lingering feelings that he’d never really properly acted on, and dreamed of being reunited under happier circumstances. But not this. Never this. Where Reaper’s revelation had been met with nothing but anger and frustration, partially as a scapegoat, mostly as an outlet with no choice but to accept what he’d been denying, Tengu’s was empty disappointment and shock; unexpected and unable to react. “Darlin’…”

Genji flinched.

Reaper moved. He moved out of Jesse’s sight to stand beside him and the cowboy felt his hands being jostled and tugged before they fell to his sides completely, the ropes cut and falling to the ground with a thump. Jesse lifted them to rub at the marks burned into his skin from his struggling then lifted his eyes to Reaper’s face as the mercenary came into view. There was a slight jerk of the wraith’s head.

Jesse hesitated. The pile of blood and the body resting in it as it dried was his main source for pause, at least until he reminded himself of all the bodies he had seen Genji cut down in the past as though it was what he had been born for. Reaper was another cause, but when Jesse looked at him again, the wraith had turned and taken a few steps back towards the door behind him, in some sort of effort to give them privacy and space.

“Genji,” the gunslinger said, more deliberately this time as he stood and took slow steps towards him. There was no response beyond another flinch and he felt his chest tighten at how small he looked. Calloused hands lifted, first one then the other, to cup those scarred cheeks and lift his head to face him. He said nothing as he stared deep into those eyes, searching them for something, _anything_ , even if he didn’t know what he was looking for. “I thought…” The words caught. Jesse took a breath and tried again. “I convinced myself you were dead. Or you’d gotten away. But not…”

“I do not work for Talon,” Genji murmured, finally finding the strength to break the eye contact even if he didn’t try and pull his face away. “Reaper— _Gabriel_ … He saved me, in Switzerland. There was a firefight. He took a bullet for me, and then there was the explosion… I owe him my life more times than any man should owe a single person. And I had nowhere else to go.”

“I told you, darlin’. I told you y’were always welcome with me.” Jesse’s hands wandered. One into Genji’s hair ( _synthetic_ ) and then both down his arms ( _right forearm a prosthetic, left still real apart from the prosthetic pinkie he’d had in Blackwatch_ ) and then up again to move over his chest ( _mostly real save a metal panel over the right side of his chest_ ). “What happens now?”

“You make a choice,” Reaper, still keeping his distance, cut in, turning around on the spot. His arms were folded over his chest, the mask gripped in one hand. His face had shifted, too, to something a little more human. More _Gabriel_. There were still too many eyes and the mouth was still lined with too sharp teeth, but there two human eyes and less tears in his skin and the echoing of his voice had mostly faded. “You join us, or you leave here and take Genji with you.”

“Gabriel—“

“There’s more to owing someone your life than trying to take every bullet for them,” the wraith interrupted. “Given the choice, I’d rather see you living than hiding in the shadows. I can keep you both safe from Talon. And I promise I’ll get you all the answers you want later. But it’s your choice, _mijo_.”

“It’s Genji’s as much as it is mine,” Jesse breathed, and turned his head back to the smaller man in front of him. He offered a hand and let his head tilt to one side. There were questions swimming around his head. Confusion and concern. There was still a hatred, as well, towards the wraith and the man he used to be and the man he had become, and even if he understood Genji’s approach, there were still concerns there, as well. But he was being offered a second chance (or a third, or a fourth; he had long lost count). “Whaddya say, darlin’?”

Genji hesitated, eyes flickering between the two men, before he found the strength in him to muster a smile and slip a gloved hand into Jesse’s.

Reaper smiled, warm despite the monstrous mouth.

“I’ve done what I can to save both your lives. Now live them.”


End file.
